


This Side of Babbling On.II

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Series: Babbling On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected surprise at dinner and a few painkillers lead to some strange dreams for Blair.<br/>This story is a sequel to This Side of Babbling On.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Side of Babbling On.II

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of the first... 
> 
> It's only five pages long, and aside from one small section, almost clean enough to let the kiddies read it. Note I said almost... 
> 
> Warnings: I decided to base part of this on a recent event in my life... ie: Major Toothache time.

## This Side of Babbling On.II

by Red Skye

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Lair/9377/Senfic/sentinel.html>

Author's disclaimer: Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison are the intellectual property of Pet Fly, Paramount, UPN, and their creator/s (?)... The plot if you can call it one is mine all mine... I just borrowed their toys to play with them a little... And I'll put them back on the shelf all nice and neat, albeit, slightly rumpled. 

Copyright, Red Skye, February 11th, 1999

* * *

Those dreams, were just too weird, I put off sleeping as long as I could, I was kinda enjoying the new way Jim was treating me, and I wasn't even sure if I was awake, not after those dreams. When did I work out that I was awake, it was right about the time I broke my tooth. 

Jim declared he didn't feel like cooking, and since it was his turn to cook, he offered to shout for dinner. Here I was thinking wonderburger, pizza, or maybe Chinese, but no. He takes me to a restaurant where one look at the menu is enough to give a poor man a heart attack. 

Jim told me to relax, that he had vouchers and had always wanted to check out that particular restaurant, to order what I liked. Of course, I picked the least expensive thing on the menu. Jim gave a snort, and told the waiter to cancel that and ordered a full three course meal for me, something in the mid range. 

After all the time we've spent together, he knows what I like to eat, and I ate every little bit. Or at least I tried to. He ordered a cheery cheesecake. It looked positively scrumptious, a thick slice of cheese cake, topped with a layer fresh cherries in a rich thick sauce that slowly flowed over the edges of my slice in tasty rivulets. The first bite was wonderful, it was perfect, the sauce and Cherries had just the right amount of tang to go with the smooth creamy cheese cake. It was the second mouthful that got me. 

As I bit down on it, pain exploded in my jaw. I saw Jim sit up straighter as he heard what I felt, a tooth breaking. It was the same tooth I'd had filled a month ago. The damn filling had popped out, and I didn't have the time to go back to the dentist and have it replaced, pain is so not my thing. But then, the pain of the tooth breaking was so bad I still don't know how I managed to avoid the total embarrassment of screaming in pain when it happened. 

Man did he exploded, while I folded up, hands curled around my jaw, whimpering at the pain. First the waiter, then the manager arrived. The manager groveled, and agreed to pay the bill for the trip to the dentist, but that wasn't helping me right then and there. At that time of night no dentist was open. The one that should have been had a sign on the door, closed due a death in the family. Great huh? Not. 

Pain is so not my thing, and this was a major tooth ache. It felt like someone was alternatly slugging me on the jaw, and driving a hot nail into it. I was as twitchy as hell through the drive home, thanks to the emergency dental clinic being closed. I had to return to the loft, down a few strong pain killers that were left over from the last time Jim got shot. Half an hour later, what I'd been trying to avoid, sleeping, happened. I couldn't keep my eyes open after that. 

*---=========(*)=========---* 

I knew I was dreaming again, when I woke up. Does that sound as bizarre as it felt? How did I know? It was easy, my tooth didn't ache, thanks no doubt to the pain killers and the fact that I was only dreaming I was awake, again. I didn't realize this fact at first. At first it seemed that I woke up naturally, I needed to take a leak. So I crawled out of bed and trudged to the bathroom to tend to my needs. When I walked out there was Jim, nothing strange about that, until you take into account what he looked like. His hair was longer, much longer, drawn back in a sleek pony tail. He dressed in a rather nice suit, a pair of stylish glasses sliding down his nose, sitting at the table reading a copy of Anthropology Today, while he sipped at his coffee. 

At the sound of the door opening, he peered over his magazine, pushed his glasses up and looked me up and down. 

"You look like something the cat dragged in," he said, his accent postively British all of a sudden. 

I didn't tell him what I thought about his look, which by the way was great. I could imagine a few woman drooling if he walked past them in that get up. 

"What _are_ you reading?" 

"Anthropology Today, there's a fascinating article on the rituals of the whoziwhat tribe of Wherethehellsville. Which I'm sure would bore you to tears," Jim drawled in a superior tone of voice. 

"Uh-hu." 

"Don't you think you should get dressed, you know what Captain Banks is like when you're late for duty." 

It seemed in this dream of mine that he was the professor, and I was the cop. It was a fascinating dream, I probably giggled in my sleep quite a bit, because Jim was playing the 'English, "I say old boy" professor' to the hilt, and I was apparently a Vice cop, it went with the hair. That dream ended with me being caught out in some bar and some drug pusher with a gun about to use it on me. 

I woke up, bolting upright, with a cry and then screamed when I saw a big black panther sitting at the end of my bed watching me. It vanished, poof, just like that when I screamed, and the next thing I heard was Jim thundering down the stairs at top speed, to burst into my room gun in hand, ready to shoot anything that looked remotely threatening. 

"S'ok, Man, it's Ok..." 

Jim looked in all directions, sniffed the air and used those keen ears of his to make sure there was no one else around with less than benign motives. 

"You alright, Chief?" 

"Yeah, just had a really weird dream, and it freaked me right out." 

"Wanna talk about it?" Jim asked as he reset the guns safety and then set it on the corner of the bed as he sat on the edge looking at me. 

No way in hell did I want to tell him about that dream, and I just shook my head. 

"It wasn't about Lash again, was it?" 

I'd had a few dreams about him since my trip to the dentist. I know, I know, the chair that manic chained me to was a barber's chair, but it had a lot in common with a dentist's chair. After Lash, I may never be able to walk into a barber shop again without having palpitations and flash backs to that maniac. 

"No, man," I said around a yawn, my eyes feeling like lead weights. 

It had to be the pain killers, the pain was so intense that only the strongest ones available over the counter would do. The problem with them was that they can really knock you out. It makes me want to laugh when I read the package and it says Warning, this medication may induce drowsiness, if that's their idea of drowsiness, what's their idea of unconsciousness - a full blown coma? 

Jim fetched me a glass of lukewarm chamomile tea. He was only gone a minute, I heard the ding of the microwave, so I guess he made it before I dropped off, and I never got to drink it. That's what I like about Jim, he might be gruff, but inside, he's pure marshmallow. A lot of cops are cynical and Jim can be as cynical as the next cynic at times, but deep down he cares about people. That's why he's a cop, because he does care, and tries to make a difference. 

Maybe it's part of his genetic programming, like protecting the tribe, maybe it's just 'Jim.' It wonder if there are any doctor's out there with full blown Sentinel senses, can you imagine what they could do? Forget the heart monitor, they could hear every beat of their patient's heart, the blood pumping through their veins, and micro surgery would be a breeze. 

After I drank my tea, he took the cup setting it aside and helped me to lay down, tucking me in and found my brush, giving my hair a brush while I drifted back off to sleep. 

When I woke up again, my face was throbbing with a light pain, so I assumed I was awake. Jim was being Jim again, puttering around in the kitchen. After I came out of the shower, he told me to sit and presented me with plain scrambled eggs, a glass of milk and two more pain killers. Nothing strange about that. Then he left me alone just long enough to find my brush, comb and detangler, and stood behind me getting all the tangles out of my damp hair while I had my breakfast. 

The next thing I knew my hair was dry and we were on the couch, and he was running his hands through my hair, burying his face in my long locks, inhaling the scent of it and murmuring his appreciation for its scent and silky texture. 

One thing lead to another and in next to no time we were making out like a pair of horny teenagers. I always wondered what it would be like, to be Jim's mate, how would he use his heightened senses, would they make a difference in the way he made love to a partner. 

There's that word, partner. I'm Jim's partner, that's what they call me around the station at least. That and Hairboy. Well, it could be worse, they could be calling me Cousin It. Jim's called me that a time or two when I staggered out in the morning with my hair everywhere, including down over my face. Once when he was in a bad mood, I brushed my hair out over my face, slipped my glasses on over the hair and walked around like that for a few minutes. He gave a little snerk, then a chuckle, then a full blown laugh and raced off to find his camera. By the time he returned with it, my hair was back off my face, and he gave a good humored grumble about missing such a great shot. 

I've gone off track, haven't I. Forget sleep deprivation, heavy duty pain killers will do strange things to your head. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, that's right, we were making out on the sofa. Being with Jim was like being made love to by a big cat. Have you ever noticed how sensual cats are? They're fluffy sensualists, they just love being stroked. So does Jim, once our clothes seemed to melt away, he loved being stroked by me while he explored my body. 

He was rubbing his body against mine, sniffing me here, sniffing me there, a lick followed by a nibble, his caresses were feather light, and sent tingles straight to my groin. Butter fly kisses were peppered all over my body, always preceded by his hot breath sensitizing my skin to the touch of his lips first. Man I got off on the foreplay alone. He didn't even have to touch my dick. 

It was just after I came that I woke up again, to find one of my blankets and pillows missing. They hadn't gone far, just to the floor, where he was curled up and sleeping, with his gun in hands reach. No one has ever done that for me. Well, no one except Naomi when I was a little kid, and she didn't have a gun, and it wasn't the floor she slept on. She usually curled up on the bed beside me. And here was Jim curled up sleeping on the floor. Of course during his army days he probably got used to sleeping anywhere at any time. Still it doesn't stop me from appreciating the gesture. 

How does that make feel? 

Protected. Definitely. Cherished - You bet. I like knowing that the new way Jim's been treating me isn't just a dream. Maybe one day I'll be ready for the part that was a dream to become reality. And if the reality is anything like my dream - Jim Ellison will never be rid of me. 

And with that thought in mind, I drifted back off to sleep this time to enjoy where my unconscious mind took me, and the games that it played on me. 

The End... 

Copyright, Red Skye, 11 February, 1999 


End file.
